


No Rest for the Wicked

by TheInvisibleMika



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Character Death Fix, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Flashbacks, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, M/M, Road Trips, Survivor Guilt, Terrorcons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-09-21 10:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9545384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInvisibleMika/pseuds/TheInvisibleMika
Summary: [ON HIATUS] Knock Out had accepted that Breakdown's death was the end. But, as he would soon find out, it was also the beginning of something much greater: a sequence of events that would change both of their lives in ways that neither of them expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to give a big thank you to all my friends who gave me the inspiration to write this, suggested some really good plot points, and helped edit it! This is turning out to be the longest story I've written in a long time, so I'm looking forward to it all finally being uploaded. Enjoy!

The request came out of nowhere.

Knock Out and Breakdown, bored out of their minds, had been chatting idly in the medbay during an unexpected lull in their schedules. They talked of this and that - how they were running a bit low on wax, when they could sneak out for another movie night, why that _one_ Vehicon whose designation Knock Out could never recall kept showing back up with ridiculously minor injuries. When the private message from Dreadwing interrupted their discussion, Breakdown had taken the call after excusing himself with a quick kiss and a “see you later”.

Of course, neither of them had any idea how _much_ later it would end up being.

The news wasn’t broken to him gently, either. Dreadwing had been as respectful as he could have been, having experienced the loss of a loved one before, but the fact that he was unaware of their _actual_ relationship was plainly obvious. “I know you were his friend,” he had said, oblivious to why Knock Out was frozen in shock before him, “but I cannot say that he offlined in a deserving fight.” He gave a brief nod, and then exited the medbay.

That one Vehicon didn’t show up that day, or the day after that. In fact, his queue of Vehicons in need of medical attention was suspiciously empty. Not like the lack of annoying drones was unwelcome, of course. No, Knock Out was perfectly fine being left alone, hunched over at his desk, surrounded by empty cubes of high grade he’d smuggled in. The rest of the space wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of organization, either. A vial containing a solution he thankfully had duplicates of was left shattered in the corner, several datapads were strewn about here and there, his cabinet of waxes and polish was halfway through being resorted for the umpteenth time. In that sense, Knock Out’s own frame, his helm and arms sporting a multitude of minuscule scratches, complemented the state of his medbay perfectly.

It had been a few blissfully yet terribly quiet days until the Nemesis proved, once again, to be an unstable ship full of even more unstable Decepticons. He overheard some rumor about an unknown mech being on board, another thing about clones, and before he knew it he was being thrown out of his berth by a sudden impact. Ignoring the irritating pain from the crash, Knock Out decided that he’d have to resume his post in the bridge if he wanted to have any idea of the latest goings-on, instead of, as Megatron had so eloquently put it, “sulking and waiting around for someone to pity him”. He was roped into some _nonsensical_ scheme with Dark Energon - frankly, he decided that it was too stupid to be of any interest to him, but somehow there was never a way to stay irrelevant for long on the Nemesis.

Knock Out estimated he’d onlined not too long after the formerly-sentient ship had gone through its little episode. And, of course, he’d gotten out of it practically _covered_ in organic germs and scuff marks, _and_ gotten his paint scratched by Ratchet of all mechs, _AND_ irritated Megatron. Still, he preferred being told “stay at your post and get out of my way” than “go do some menial labor and get out of my way”.

Not even twenty-four Earth hours had passed before he was told to go do some of such menial labor and get out of Megatron’s way. He didn’t even have _time_ to appreciate Manhattan - it was no Milan or Paris, but the last time he and Breakdown had scouted out the area, they had come across a _gorgeous_ convertible he was hoping to see again. But, before he could go out and explore, he was being scraped along the ground by a fragging _train_.

He returned to the Nemesis minus the phase shifter, to Megatron’s fury. But, more importantly, he was minus a wheel, the state of his paint job, and his dignity. And to make matters worse, he wasn’t minus his Insecticon bodyguard.

Once again, there was another lull in activity. The medbay was back to its usual steady pace, leaving Knock Out just enough free time to perfect his finish. He became so distracted by work and maintaining his image that he even forgot to drown his sorrows in Engex. In fact, the only time he had to even _think_ of Breakdown was during his allotted time for recharge, which, admittedly, he did a bit more than he should have. There was nothing _wrong_ with thinking, though. Nobody could complain that he _thought_ too much, as not even Soundwave could hear him. So, as a result, the topics he pondered over before he slept were often ones that only he knew of.

During one particular night, he started with their first meeting. Breakdown - a different Breakdown, one who was shy and paranoid and pessimistic - came to him in need of his medical services. His frame had been nearly destroyed, apparently because of a particularly bad argument with his ex. Knock Out had chuckled, and said he knew the feeling (which, in retrospect, he didn’t). Still, he would live; so Knock Out wasn’t worried about losing a patient. What _did_ worry him was that his client was asking to have effectively his entire frame rebuilt from scratch, when he had a very limited selection of parts to choose from. So, although a bit sad to have to replace what was surely once a cute frame, Knock Out decided to make do with what he had at his disposal.

It’d been an arduous process, unlike anything he’d ever done before. Sure, he was well versed in cosmetic surgery, from simple repaints to alt-mode transitions, but he couldn’t recall ever doing something of that scale. As if to make the situation _more_ strange, Knock Out swore that Breakdown spent more time in his clinic than out on the battlefield, but kept himself from asking until Breakdown was ready.

“Y’know,” Breakdown had started when the time came, “I used to be a combiner.”

“Really,” Knock Out replied, more as a statement than a question.

Breakdown nodded. In the present, Knock Out reminisced how honest his partner’s smile had been at that moment, despite his face still covered in scrapes from what he later found out was a barely-dodged wrecking ball. “I’m… er, I _was_ a Stunticon. It was me, Motormaster, Dead End, Drag Strip, and Wildrider… and if you thought _I_ was twitchy, heh… you should see _those_ guys.”

Knock Out frowned as he refitted the plating on what would soon be Breakdown’s new servo. “I wouldn’t call you _twitchy,_ Breakdown. Don’t be so self-conscious... it doesn’t suit you.” He paused, putting the servo down and flashing a grin. “Especially now with your _gorgeous_ new frame.”

“Yeah, heh heh, guess so,” Breakdown chuckled. At that point in time, his body was about half rebuilt, and Breakdown’s expression made it clear that he didn’t really find his much bulkier legs as attractive as Knock Out did, but Knock Out was assured that he would in time.

The awkward silence was broken by, as it usually was between them, Knock Out. “So, why _is_ it that you spend so much time away from your gestalt… or, as you claim, your _former_ gestalt? Why do you always keep me company up here? It… doesn’t seem like your kind of place. No offense, of course.”

Breakdown paused for a moment. “The other guys don’t really like me. I mean, most people don’t, I’m kinda…”

“Kind of what?”

“Eh.” Breakdown shrugged, although the gesture was less effective as one of his arms had been removed for disassembly. “The five of us, we’ve all got our little quirks. I’m the paranoid one, which means nobody wants to talk to me or Dead End - he’s the nihilist one - about anything.”

Knock Out made a vague sound of understanding. “Well, if it’s any consolation, you haven’t really acted paranoid in the time you’ve been here. Nervous, maybe, but this is a big change… I’d be nervous too if anyone got too close with a saw.” He shuddered, pushing the mental image to the back of his processing queue.

Weirdly enough, Breakdown laughed at that. “O-oh man,” he managed, trying his best to calm himself down. “No, I… I’m just trying to _impress_ you, honestly. I’m bottling all that slag up. The klik I get outta here, it’s all gonna come out and I’m gonna collapse in a total panic attack, I bet you.”

It’d been intended as a joke, Knock Out later was informed, but he hadn’t taken it as such. Knock Out shuttered his optics as Breakdown’s wide smile slowly faded into an uncomfortable frown. “Breakdown, I see mechs with much worse dispositions than you every solar cycle. Why do you think you have to impress me?” He said, utilizing his rarely-used serious tone of voice.

“Uh…” Breakdown squirmed on the medical berth. His golden optics darted around the room, looking for a way out of the conversation, but ultimately they landed back on Knock Out. “I… I didn’t wanna…”

It was clearly an uncomfortable discussion. Knock Out, in the past, thought he should’ve known better than to press the subject. But Knock Out in the present knew that if he hadn’t, things might’ve been different - for better, or for worse.

Breakdown sighed. “I wanted you to like me. Because, y’know, you’re…”

Knock Out didn’t say anything. If Breakdown was going to ever get through his paranoia and low self-esteem, he figured, he needed to learn to speak for himself.

“You’re smart, you’re talented, you’re… you’re _pretty_ , you’ve got a great sense of humor, you’re confident… slag, you’ve got _everything_ covered, Knock Out, you’re _perfect_. Why _wouldn’t_ I want to impress you? I’m none of that.”

The two mechs had fallen silent until Knock Out had placed a reassuring servo on Breakdown’s remaining shoulder strut. “Breakdown, I appreciate the sentiment, but this kind of behavior isn’t good. I’m no psychologist, but your worries seem to be seriously hurting you.”

Once again, Breakdown laughed, although this time it was shorter and with less humor behind it. “I know, I know. But that’s just who I am, yeah?” He gave a crooked smile, though his optics didn’t reflect it. “I’m just kinda… sad for no reason. I’ve got no, y’know, awful backstory… I mean, I’ve got a scrap gestalt and an ex who left me for the Wreckers, but I’ve never had anything that would change my outlook drastically.”

“So, to recap,” Knock Out said as he moved to stand closer to the side of Breakdown’s berth, “you believe that you need something major to set you on a different path in life. Does that still apply today?”

“I guess,” Breakdown shrugged.

With his signature grin, Knock Out leaned over and kissed Breakdown, for the first but not by any means the last time. Breakdown practically jumped off his berth in shock, but after a moment, joined him in the kiss.

Ever since that day, their relationship had blossomed into something greater than either of them had ever imagined (or fantasized, in their case). Breakdown had completely turned his back on his gestalt, so much that Knock Out had never even gotten to meet any of the others. Instead, he proved himself to be as against Functionism as he claimed by having Knock Out mentor him as a nurse in his clinic. And so, everything became normalized. It was just the two of them, in their little partnership-turned-romance. No matter how many times they had to convince others that it was “strictly professional, thank you very much”, it was plain as day to anyone who opened their optics that these were two mechs who were going to spend the rest of their lives together, even if they weren’t Conjunx.

Still, Conjunx Endurae they did become. For Knock Out, it was an act of devotion as much as it was of necessity - you can only spend so many nights tangled up with another mech before you have to consider settling down, after all. But for Breakdown, the completion of the Conjunx Ritus signified _security_. Through the four acts, Knock Out promised to him that he’d always be there for him, always love him, through everything. And that, Knock Out mused, is where he believed Breakdown started to become who he was known as on the Nemesis - confident but modest, strong but in control, calm but empathetic.

After most of the fighting (and by association, their usefulness) was over, they decided to travel. Their destinations ranged from typical to bizarre (Breakdown had insisted that the Acid Wastes were worth it for the sunsets and the flowers, and Knock Out had complied if only for how happy he looked), but only one vacation spot could be considered relevant - Earth. They’d been on Earth for Primus knew how many years, at least forty, but the changes around them had been incredibly rapid.

It was strange, living among the humans. The two of them had never figured out holoforms, but both of them could agree that it was for the best. Earth organisms were… weird. Their culture was weird, their views on the way things worked was weird, their science was weird. Breakdown, during one of their many extrospective discussions in their parking garage, had pinned it down - humans were _picky_. They didn’t like if you drove a certain way, and the rules for driving changed depending on which land mass you were on. Each stretch of road had different speed limits, most of which were practically insulting to Knock Out’s ego. And, weirdest of all, they’d gotten a number of odd looks over the years when Knock Out and Breakdown had flirted through their comm link in public.

They’d made sure to stay disguised, of course. To an outsider, it simply sounded as if they were both in one car. Knock Out _knew_ humans were fine with public displays of affection - it was _everywhere!_ So what was the issue?

The issue, he and Breakdown found out, was a ridiculous one. Humans had this _thing_ where a lot - not _all_ , but enough for it to matter - were very specific over what type of humans can and cannot be in a relationship. It turns out that one of these many, many specifications was that romance ‘had’ to be between a male and a female.

“It’s like saying mechs can only date femmes,” Knock Out explained one night, “which makes absolutely no sense.”

“Yeah. So what’s that mean for us?”

Knock Out sighed, swirling the energon in his cube idly. “Well, we’ll keep a low profile until we don’t have to anymore. I’ve read that people expect the whole situation to get easier in years to come. Once same-gender marriage - marriage is like the Conjunx Ritus, for the record - is legalized, apparently, things will start to change. Of course, that could be all wrong, I don’t know.”

Breakdown furrowed his brow and looked away. Knock Out remembered that he always used to do that when he thought about something he deemed too far-reaching for him. “That’s weird, but I think I know what you’re talking about. All those movies we’ve seen… the rom-com ones especially… it’s always been a guy and a girl.” He paused, narrowing his optics. “‘s weird. I never thought about it till now, but I don’t think I like it.”

“Mm,” Knock Out nodded. He put his pedes on the makeshift table with a sigh, in an attempt to lighten the quickly darkening mood. “I don’t like it either. But, I’ll keep looking into the topic, don’t you worry.”

He did, indeed, look into the topic. And as his source predicted, things did in fact start to change. For the humans, Knock Out figured, the change was at an agonizingly slow pace. He could empathize, although he didn’t like to discuss why, aside from a quick “I wasn’t _always_ a grounder, you know”. However, the difference in life spans made it feel as if it hadn’t been several years until the two of them could once again reference their partnership without passers-by giving them incredulous looks.

It’d been around that time when they’d received the call from Starscream. Breakdown was initially hesitant (Knock Out recalled him saying “you know I still don’t like crowds, sweetspark, and there’s probably so many mechs I don’t know up there…”) but had been convinced after they’d discussed how short the list of potential downsides was.

Back in the present day, Knock Out thought that the current list of actual downsides wouldn’t even fit on a single datapad.

Somehow, reminiscing helped him fall into recharge, at least most of the time. But this time, it was beyond reminiscing - it was reliving every important moment of their relationship. Every emotion came rushing back in full force, and Knock Out simply wasn’t ready. He’d been hiding his emotions under a flamboyant guise for the past week at _least,_ and suddenly he was a mess of dozens of powerful feelings. Before he knew it, he was curled up on his side covering his optics with his servos.

_Things can’t get worse,_ he assured himself, _the only direction for things to go from rock bottom is up._

After a short while, Knock Out fell into recharge, with no idea that miles below him MECH was hard at work on what would soon become the way for things to go down from rock bottom.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything was happening way too fast, Breakdown thought. One second he was trapped by Airachnid, curse her, and the next he was onlining in MECH’s laboratory. Not only that, something felt… off. He felt drowsy, like he hadn’t recharged right, and his internals felt all out of place.

“Welcome back, sir,” a human said.

Breakdown attempted to raise an eyebrow, but found himself unable to. Why would this human (who he recognized as wearing the same mask as the ones who experimented on him) refer to him as  _ sir? _

For some reason, Breakdown lifted his right servo and examined it for a moment. “What have you done?” he asked… but Breakdown didn’t  _ mean  _ to say that, and it wasn’t his voice. Upon further inspection, he realized he felt  _ something  _ pressing on his spark. A virus, perhaps?

The human looked at him intensely. “What we needed to… in order to save you, Silas.”

Oh, Pit no.

Breakdown groaned internally, partially out of finding the whole situation  _ disgusting, _ and partially out of realization that of  _ course  _ it would be him, of  _ course  _ Primus wouldn’t simply let him offline and be done with it. No, he had to become a probably half-dead host for the most parasitic human on this planet. “I’m… one of  _ them _ ,” Silas said, still looking at his servo.

“The logical evolution of MECH’s experiments and biotech. Your brain, fused with the donor’s nervous and skeletal systems.” Donor?  _ Donor?  _ Breakdown attempted to grimace, to transform his servo, to do  _ anything  _ to retaliate. This wasn’t a donation. This wasn’t a  _ sacrifice, _ or  _ fair,  _ or  _ ethical _ _._ This was… he attempted to look at his levels, to no avail. This was  _ mutilation _ .

Silas seemed to shift around in his frame slightly. “The perfect meld of man and machine… exquisite. Thank you all for your dedication and a lifetime of service,” he said as he stepped off of the platform, detaching himself from the cables connected to various machines. Breakdown felt himself take a few uncertain steps forward, stopping to stand in front of all four of the MECH technicians. “But I now seem more suited to keep the exclusive company…” Silas paused, activating Breakdown’s blaster  _ somehow _ , and flashing a smirk that was more insulting than it was likely intended, “of  _ titans. _ ”

With that, Silas mercilessly executed the four humans, leaving nothing but marred ground and blood splatters in their wake.

All Breakdown could do was stare in horror. Sure, he was perfectly fine with the deaths of humans affiliated with MECH, but something didn’t sit right. Maybe it was their loyalty to Silas, not unlike his own loyalty to Megatron, both of which ended in their deaths. Or at least Breakdown  _ assumed  _ he’d died… whether it was by Airachnid or MECH, he wasn’t sure.

He felt Silas transform, but, like everything else, it wasn’t natural. He sensed Silas’ body in his front seat, sitting there comfortably despite how grotesque everything was. It felt  _ violating, _ having someone drive you, Breakdown thought. It felt as if he was being  _ dragged along _ by this squishy, grinning pest who was getting his filthy germs all over him. Sure, Breakdown wasn’t as bothered by dirt as Knock Out was, but still… the creature was  _ disgusting. _

The drive lasted for what felt like a century, until Silas arrived at the military base. He exchanged a quick conversation with a soldier at an outpost, and then carried on. Breakdown - no, Silas - shot through the wall of a storage building with no real sense of precision, and ventured inside.

It took a short while to find what he was looking for, which was apparently an unlabelled metal box, and Silas picked it up roughly. He walked towards their previous entrance, his gait still a bit awkward, but stopped when the two of them heard the most welcoming sound Breakdown had heard in a long time - the unmistakable whoosh of a GroundBridge opening. Silas scoffed to himself, but Breakdown was  _ delighted.  _ Someone was coming to rescue him after all.

Because Primus seemed to want to make things more interesting, it was Knock Out and a small team of Vehicons that awaited him. Breakdown felt an uncomfortable mix of adoration and shame at the sight, not even stopping to wonder if Silas could sense the swell of emotions. No, all that occurred to him was that his Conjunx was here to save him... but also, what a way to reunite with his beloved; harboring a human parasite and in the worst condition he’d been since he’d been rebuilt.

“Breakdown! Where have you--” Knock Out paused, his smile fading instantly. Silas turned and smiled evilly, something that felt so, so wrong. “...Breakdown? What  _ happened  _ to you?”

“Therein lies a tale, which won’t be nearly as interesting to Megatron as  _ this,”  _ Silas replied. He lifted the metal box, and once again gave a grin that Breakdown knew was too out of character to be mistaken as his own. “So,” Silas added, “take me to your leader.”

Knock Out’s expression made Breakdown feel like he’d been shot directly through his spark. He didn’t say anything, but motioned for the distressed-looking Vehicons to go through the GroundBridge first. Just before he entered it himself, however, he stopped and turned to face Silas.

“Don’t think I don’t know who you are,  _ Silas,”  _ Knock Out hissed, pointing an accusatory servo. “Breakdown told me  _ everything _ about your little get-together…  _ including  _ how he made you flee like the pests you are once he got off of the operating table.”

Silas laughed. “Oh, you needn’t worry about MECH anymore… I intend to join forces with you, you see, to give the Decepticons the much-needed edge.”

The tense pause that followed seemed to hurt Knock Out just as much as the implications of Silas’ statement. “...The Decepticons don’t  _ need  _ you,” he concluded, his servos clenching into fists. “We’d rather not have organic  _ scum  _ like yourself making a mockery of our faction,  _ especially  _ not while… while pretending to be a dearly missed member of our own.”

Breakdown felt his disgust for the human sitting inside of him increase tenfold when he shrugged his shoulders, unaware of the great suffering Knock Out was surely enduring. “If he was so dearly missed, shouldn’t he be a sight for sore eyes? Oh, excuse me,  _ optics. _ ”

Knock Out seethed, and turned around to enter the GroundBridge. Silas followed, acting as if he’d won the conversation.

It wasn’t long before they were able to receive audience with Megatron. Perhaps it was the severity of the situation, Breakdown considered, or perhaps it was how Knock Out wouldn’t shut up about it.

“Knock Out,” Megatron addressed him, “what is this abomination?! And why have you brought it here?”

“I am Silas,” he replied, bringing a servo to gesture in front of him, “as in Cybernetic Life Augmented by Symbiosis.”  _ Great,  _ Breakdown groused,  _ he’s given himself a stupid acronym for a name. _ Silas, or rather Cylas, continued. “I come with a proposition.”

“ _ This  _ is the  _ human _ who dissected Breakdown,” Knock Out interrupted, his faceplate angrier than Breakdown thought he had ever seen it. Without a moment’s hesitation, Knock Out transformed his servo into its circular saw mode. “Please, my liege,” he said in a hushed voice, “allow me to return the favor.”

Breakdown felt a strange sense of pride. Pride, and concern. Knock Out wasn’t really acting like himself… how long had Breakdown been gone for? But regardless, here he was practically  _ begging  _ Megatron to avenge him by any means necessary.

To Breakdown’s surprise, Megatron didn’t shush Knock Out, or even appear annoyed. Instead, he silently looked over his shoulder to meet Knock Out’s optics. But before he could voice his opinion, Cylas spoke up: “I propose that you not overlook the one asset that provides Optimus Prime an advantage - at least, on  _ this  _ world.”

Megatron looked down at him disdainfully. “And that would be?”

“The  _ human  _ factor.”

“Look around you…  _ Cylas,”  _ Megatron said, his tone falling between taunting and accusatory. “I command an army from a mighty warship. What could a human  _ possibly  _ offer?!”

Cylas leaned forward confidently, still wearing that despicable smile. “I am no  _ ordinary  _ human,” he said.  _ You’re right,  _ Breakdown thought,  _ you’re worse.  _ “and  _ this  _ is no ordinary weapon.”

Breakdown wasn’t really sure what happened during the next few hours. He was struggling to remain conscious - he wasn’t  _ quite  _ sure he needed to recharge, but he certainly  _ felt  _ like it. He knew that Cylas’ weapon, Damocles, was relevant for some reason. But it didn’t matter, though, as Knock Out’s stare from across the room made him feel like his Conjunx’s stability was a dagger hanging over his head, ready to fall down if he met his optics.

He knew Megatron had told him to do  _ something _ , but his mind was far too preoccupied to remember  _ what.  _ Of course, it didn’t help that he’d been conscious for only a few hours at that point. For whatever reason, he was outside, pointing his blaster at some house, and then suddenly he was fighting Bulkhead again. And then… he was fighting someone else, too? Someone with a white and blue color scheme and a weirdly chipper attitude?

It didn’t matter, though, because as soon as things started to look grim, Megatron woke him out of his stupor with a message that no Decepticon wanted to hear: “Cylas, return to base immediately.”

Cylas wasted no time meeting Megatron at the bridge once again. Megatron was waiting there for him - a sight which seemed to make Silas feel comfortable, but Breakdown incredibly nervous. “Cylas,” Megatron began, “you have earned your place at the table.”

“Lord Megatron, I am honored.”

“Knock Out’s  _ dissection  _ table.”

If Breakdown had been in control, he would’ve froze. It didn’t surprise him that Cylas had made an error. He was a human, of course he would’ve. But… unless Silas suddenly gave up control and let Breakdown prove that he was still alive... what would Knock Out do?

Cylas turned, horrified, and was welcomed with the sight of Knock Out standing menacingly behind him. “Breakdown would be tickled,” he said with a wicked smile.

Desperate, Cylas attempted to beg, but Breakdown knew better. The only mech that could beg for their life and succeed was Starscream, why had Cylas even bothered?

Before he knew it, Cylas seemed to feel a great pain, and fell over onto his back. But something wasn’t right - Breakdown could tell that Knock Out had attacked him with his energon prod, that much was obvious… but he couldn’t  _ feel  _ it.

He continued to plead for his life, but the question still remained. Why could Cylas feel pain, but Breakdown could not? And if Breakdown was just a consciousness, a ghost like in those human horror films, why could he feel Silas residing inside him?

And what was Knock Out planning on doing to him?

Breakdown saw himself strapped onto Knock Out’s medical berth by a small group of Vehicons. He couldn’t struggle, but Cylas tried, although nothing happened. Knock Out chuckled quietly in response, knowing how futile his efforts were. “You know, it’s not  _ every  _ day I get a freak of nature like yourself to mess around with,” he grinned as the Vehicons exited the medbay in a group.

Cylas stopped struggling for a moment, and instead donned a confident guise. “Doctor, please, how could you say such a thing? You do realize I’m not simply walking around in Breakdown’s frame.”

Knock Out placed his energon prod against the wall and raised an eyebrow. “Do tell,” he said, crossing his arms.

“I have access to what appears to be every one of Breakdown’s memories. It will take some time to analyze them, but I’ve seen enough to approximate your past  _ relationship _ , Knock Out.”

Breakdown wished desperately that Knock Out would give Cylas a particularly life-ending shock with his energon prod, but instead he stood frozen in place. His optics darted around the room - from Cylas’ optics, to the rest of his frame, to the monitors, to the bonds keeping him on the berth, to the medbay exit. He fidgeted nervously, giving an awkward smile that made it plain as day to Breakdown that he was seconds from fleeing the room entirely. But, to his surprise, he did not move. “Well,” he said, attempting to retain some scrap of dignity, “you humans  _ do  _ love to pry.”

“Perhaps we do. But I’m sure we can both agree that what I’m looking at right now is…  _ unnatural. _ ”

Breakdown was frustrated that he couldn’t see where in his memories Cylas was looking, but also felt as though he was better off not knowing. Either way, he did everything he could to crush Silas inside of his internal machinery, though he didn’t feel anything happen. All the while, Knock Out had grabbed his energon prod, stepped up to the berth, and simply  _ glared. _

“Listen here,  _ Cylas.  _ It would be advisable for you to watch your tongue, because a simple assessment of the situation would make it  _ clear  _ who has whom attached to his operating table,” he said, optics narrowing in anger.

“Oh?” Cylas said mockingly. “And here in this clip, it seems as though the  _ last  _ time your former partner was strapped down on here, it was a very welcome sight…”

Faster than Breakdown could process it, Knock Out had activated his energon prod and Cylas was screaming. It was held on him far longer than necessary, Breakdown thought, but at least it made him shut up. After a time, the prod was returned to its former place against the wall, and Knock Out sighed. “If you  _ enjoy _ your meaningless existence,” he said, ignoring Cylas’ groans, “then perhaps you will rethink your opinions on the matter.”

Cylas hissed, his plating still rattling from the shock. “No matter how many times you come at me with that thing,” he managed through clenched dentae, “it will not change the fact that I find you two and your previous relationship  _ revolting _ .  _ Nothing  _ about it is sanctioned on this world… you aliens think you know what love is, what a  _ joke.  _ It’s  _ disgusting  _ and you  _ know it. _ ”

“Be that way,” Knock Out smirked. “And I’m  _ glad  _ it disgusts you. That way, I don’t feel guilty about doing to  _ you  _ what you did to poor Breakdown _ …  _ only ten times worse, because unlike him, you  _ deserve it. _ ”

This time, Knock Out had won the conversation. Silas returned to fidgeting against the bonds, still with no effect, and Breakdown returned to watching Knock Out sadly. He wanted desperately to ask him how long it’d been, he wanted to apologise, he wanted to hold him and tell him that he was still alive. But, by a cruel twist of fate, all he could do was watch as his Conjunx fell farther away from his reach.

The days went by like this; sometimes Knock Out was present, sometimes he wasn’t. But Cylas still believed that he could escape - after all, on paper he had the strength to destroy the bonds, so why wasn’t he able to?

In reality, the reason was simple. Breakdown was weak. Airachnid hadn’t been kind, and MECH wasn’t as well-informed as they thought. Breakdown wasn’t sure how much longer he had left in him if he didn’t get any more energon, and while he couldn’t view his levels, he knew it wasn’t long. Until then, his strength was rapidly declining, but Cylas was in denial.

One day, an unknown length of time later, Knock Out returned with something strange in his servos. It looked to be a canister of energon, but… green. It wasn’t the right shade to be any sort of engex, so…

“Synthetic Energon,” Knock Out smirked, holding the canister closer. “You want some, don’t you…?”

“Leave me be,” Cylas replied, despite the fact that he was likely well aware of his starvation.

Knock Out shook his head. “Ah-ah. You’re  _ my  _ plaything now.  _ I  _ make the rules. And…” He took his scanner from a nearby surface, and showed Cylas its screen. “I don’t want you  _ dying  _ on me. Not yet… we’ve still got  _ so  _ many more tests to run!”

Breakdown stared at the screen. His levels were worse than he feared - not only was he within days of using up his innermost energon, he’d been hurt more than he’d thought, too. But, before he could think too much, Knock Out took the scanner away.

“Now, Cylas…” Knock Out held the canister to Cylas’ side, relishing in the panicked look his captive was giving him. “Be a dear and tell me how this feels, won’t you?”

All of a sudden, everything went dark.

Before Breakdown could react, or  _ attempt  _ to react, Silas was panicking. He was thrashing wildly on the berth, his chest heaving and internals contorting every which way. Cylas shouted, and something in Breakdown’s consciousness changed.

“What… what the  _ hell  _ did you  _ do  _ to me?!” Cylas yelled. Knock Out merely chuckled and put the canister aside, stepping back to examine his work.

“What  _ did  _ I do to you? Your levels seem… hm, mostly normal. Why don’t  _ you  _ tell  _ me?” _

Breakdown suddenly got an idea.  _ Get out of my frame,  _ he thought,  _ or I’ll force you outta there. _

“It’s… it’s, I can’t…” Cylas gritted his dentae, “Goddammit, I’m gonna kill you, you  _ freak--” _

Knock Out merely laughed as Cylas writhed furiously.  _ I know you can hear me,  _ Breakdown thought.

“Get this damn voice out of my head, you  _ bastard!”  _ Cylas yelled, leaning as far forward as he could. Knock Out raised an eyebrow, but still picked up a nearby datapad and started typing something.

“Hearing voices, hm? Tell me more.”

Cylas breathed heavily - something he didn’t have to do, Breakdown thought, but decided to do anyway because humans were weird. Still, Breakdown wouldn’t let that distract him from his goal.  _ You’re going to tell him that I’m still in here,  _ he continued, _ because you know who I am. If you do, I might spare you.  _ In reality, he was bluffing, but he focused intensely on not thinking about that, lest Silas might hear.

“I’m… I swear to  _ God,  _ you sick piece of scrap metal, I will tear you to  _ bits  _ if you don’t get this thing out of my  _ head! Do you hear me?!” _

_ Tell him,  _ Breakdown urged. Meanwhile, Knock Out tutted and stepped closer to the berth. “Well? Aren’t you going to let me know what’s going on in there?” he asked, placing a servo on his hip. “I’m  _ waiting. _ ”

Cylas huffed, and fell back on the berth. “I’m… I’m not telling you a goddamn thing.”

Knock Out frowned. “How disappointing. Well, I guess we’ll have to continue the experiment another day… yell if you get hungry again, hm?”

With that, Knock Out left the empty canister on a side table and exited the medbay, leaving Cylas to the mercy of Breakdown’s fading control.

“You’re bluffing,” Cylas said roughly. “You’re just a voice in my head, you can’t do anything.”

_ He’s gonna kill you, you know. Knock Out hates humans. _

“I don’t care. I’ve done my part.”

_ So why aren’t you dead yet, you little pest? _

Cylas grinned. “I don’t know… why don’t you ask your  _ boyfriend? _ Oh, wait… you  _ can’t,  _ can you?”

_ That’s some talk for a human at the mercy of a Decepticon. _

“A  _ Decepticon, _ ” Cylas corrected, “that won’t kill me because I’m currently residing in the body of his former significant other.

_ He’ll kill you. You wanna know why? Because he knows that’s how I would’ve wanted it. _

Breakdown wasn’t sure if Cylas even heard that last line, as he didn’t respond. Dejected, he fell back into a half-conscious daze.

Over the next length of time, Breakdown managed to amass three facts about his situation. One: the synthetic energon gave him a temporary connection to Silas’ mind, lasting a few minutes at best. Two: he found it difficult to stay fully conscious for more than an hour at a time. Three: Knock Out was refusing to let him die.

He’d been through dozens of different formulas at that point. All of them had only slightly varying results, but they differed enough to keep Knock Out’s interest. Breakdown, however, felt as if he’d honestly prefer a mercy killing.

On one day shaping up to be like any other, Knock Out and Starscream were apparently having a conversation that Breakdown didn’t feel like paying attention to. Instead, he simply thought, as he usually did. If Silas died, would he die? What  _ was  _ left of him, anyways? Breakdown assumed it was his spark, which thankfully neither Airachnid nor MECH removed. Well, he supposed, he  _ would’ve  _ been thankful for it had he not just been considering how he wished Knock Out would just terminate him already.

During their conversation, Knock Out had somehow acquired a canister he hadn’t seen before - containing something he  _ knew  _ was Dark Energon.

Breakdown knew what Dark Energon was. Silas probably didn’t, but regardless, Breakdown knew the implications. Simply put, it made Terrorcons - horrible, ravenous beasts that couldn’t be controlled. Thinking back, Breakdown recalled hearing the phrase “beast machine super soldier” a few minutes prior…

Unsettlingly, neither Knock Out nor Starscream made their usual snarky back-and-forth as they stood on either side of the berth. They simply nodded to each other silently, and Knock Out, wearing a solemn expression, injected the Dark Energon into Breakdown.

For a few moments, it seemed as if nothing changed. Breakdown still felt slightly in control because of the Synth-En, but he didn’t feel any different. But something shifted - he felt a burning sensation in his energon lines, and before he could wonder why he felt  _ anything _ , Cylas screamed, and he blacked out.

When he woke up, he was kneeling on the floor. He felt… strange, but a different kind of strange. He pondered what  _ kind  _ of different, but found himself unable to think. But still, he knew something was wrong… maybe it was the dull pain he felt in his spark? No, it wasn’t  _ in  _ his spark, it was just  _ near  _ it… it wasn’t that, either.

His innermost energon. It was gone.  _ That _ was it.

Breakdown knew someone was in the room with him. He didn’t remember who, but he could sense the energon running through their system. “Need…  _ energon, _ ” he managed, his vocalizer making his voice sound strange for some reason. 

Before he knew what was going on, Breakdown felt a sudden intense pain in his faceplate and helm. Accompanied with his drowsiness, though, it made him feel like he wanted to fall over and slip into a peaceful recharge. He nearly did, in fact, when he felt something foreign pull itself up his throat and dart out of his mouth. It was… a cable of sorts.

As trying to figure out what was going on was giving him an even worse ache in his brain module, Breakdown decided to just let things happen. The mech -  _ mechs,  _ he remembered - had left the room at some point, so he’d need to find energon elsewhere. His body stumbled out of the medbay, his pedes dragging and helm practically spinning. He wasn’t sure where he was walking to… did the hallways  _ always  _ look this similar? In fact, the dim lights that ran along the ceiling were blurry, or maybe they were pulsing… it was impossible to tell, and that frustrated Breakdown, as he should’ve remembered which it was.

An EM field caught his attention. Breakdown - or his body, it was hard to tell which - decided that hiding around a corner was the best option, as he wasn’t sure if anybody knew what was going on with him yet. Maybe they would think he was Cylas, which he wasn’t, and they wouldn’t like him. As the field got closer, Breakdown identified the source - a Vehicon, specifically T5-74, who he thought was a good friend of his. He fondly remembered how he would always make up fake injuries so he could chat with Breakdown in the medbay, to Knock Out’s frustration. Breakdown was excited to see him again… if he really had been missing for as long as he thought he’d been, surely it would be a welcome sight.

But suddenly, a thought came into his processor.  _ He has energon,  _ it said,  _ and you need it more than he does _ .

Breakdown recognized the thought as his own. It wasn’t Cylas, or some virus…  _ he _ thought that. Surely then, he concluded, it must be rational. He just was too tired to justify  _ why _ .

All of a sudden, he remembered what the cable currently poking at the inside of his faceplate was for. It an inner jaw - some sort of device that allowed him to transfer energon from another’s body into his own, while trading it for a fraction of the Dark Energon inside his systems. He decided that it must be some sort of survival mechanism, and thus, if it was active, he had good reason to use it.

T5-74 rounded the corner, and Breakdown grabbed him by the shoulders. The two fell onto the floor, the sudden change in position scrambling Breakdown’s thought process, causing his processor to practically shout commands at him. The Vehicon attempted to scream, but was cut off by Breakdown’s inner jaw attaching itself to one of his neck cables. He thrashed wildly, attempting to break free of Breakdown’s grip, but soon he went limp and his optics faded.

Breakdown stumbled to his feet, and found that the energon he’d drank barely even sated him. So, he continued his journey, staying vigilant for any Vehicons he could single out.

He found it difficult to count how many he’d fed on. Six, maybe more? He knew he remembered the first one, that friend of his, what was his name… and then four or five other ones. Nobody he really recognized, though… Breakdown looked around the hallway, still unsure of where he was, but felt a powerful urge to seek out someone  _ stronger _ .

Who was left? Starscream, Megatron, Soundwave, Knock Out… the thought of Knock Out shuddering underneath him, making  _ wonderful  _ noises as his energon was sucked out of him, all while Breakdown fondled him lovingly… no, he didn’t know how to find him, that wouldn’t do. Knock Out was probably busy looking for a cure, anyways, he wouldn’t want to see Breakdown like this. Who else was left?

...Airachnid.

He could  _ sense  _ her. She was in the locked room up ahead. And… and she wasn’t moving. Maybe she too was bound to a medical berth, Breakdown wondered. Maybe he’d hurt her more than he remembered, and she was dying, and he could kill her in an act of mercy… Breakdown wasn’t sure how it happened, but the door seemed to open up for him, despite the fact that it was locked. How wonderful, he thought. It was as if she was practically inviting him in.

Breakdown found Airachnid, oddly enough, in a stasis pod. Or at least he  _ thought  _ it was a stasis pod, everything was still blurry, and his depth perception was different. Still, it was Airachnid, so he punched the surface between them, shattering it.

Airachnid onlined, unfroze, whatever. She seemed confused, which made sense, because he too was confused when he onlined. After she regained her senses, Breakdown was pretty sure she said something, but he didn’t really hear her.

To be honest, the whole fight felt like he was on autopilot. He didn’t really feel like dodging, as he felt sluggish and tired, so he mainly just tried to grab Airachnid for  _ one second  _ so he could just get  _ close enough _ …

As quickly as the fight had started, Breakdown found himself lying on his back, with Airachnid clawing at his chest. He wasn’t sure  _ why _ , but he felt exposed and… empty?

There had been a weird presence in his chest that he’d gotten used to… Breakdown couldn't quite remember what it was, but it was this sort of comforting feeling… and it was gone. Suddenly, Breakdown felt very weak. If Airachnid was still there, he couldn’t hear her, and everything was spinning, and he felt as though he couldn’t move… but he needed energon, he needed to fight, he needed to kill, why couldn’t he get up?!

This internal battle of inactivity versus fuel went on for some time, but still, he remained stationary. A few muffled sounds distracted him from his thoughts, however, and he focused all of his might on figuring out what they were saying.

“Well, that solves  _ that  _ problem, doesn’t it?” A voice said from his left side. Breakdown tried to look at the speaker, but all he was greeted with was a grey blur.

“...Hang on, Starscream, something’s not right.” Oh, that was Knock Out’s voice. There was a beeping sound, and something red that he  _ assumed  _ was Knock Out bent over him. “I… I don’t believe it, Starscream--”

“What! What is it  _ now?!” _

Knock Out paused, leaning in close enough that Breakdown could see the concern in his faceplate. “We have to get him to the medbay, right now.”

Starscream scoffed, giving Breakdown’s chest a weird look. “And why would  _ that  _ be, Knock Out? Haven’t you experimented on him enough  _ already?” _

“Because,” Knock Out stood back up, likely meeting Starscream’s optics. “Because I think Breakdown’s still alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of the next chapter, things start to get farther from canon... also, I'm aware that technically Airachnid should've killed him at the end of the fic. But that'd just make things boring, wouldn't it?


	3. Chapter 3

Breakdown onlined his optics to find that, once again, he was bound to Knock Out’s medical berth. Everything still felt hazy - the medbay was blurry and seemed to be closing in on him, and he felt as if his helm had suddenly gotten much heavier. He tried to groan, but no sound came out.

Something to his left moved closer. He focused on the blur, and found that it was the same grey shape he had seen after he’d fallen over. Who was it that he fought, again? And why did his chest hurt so badly?

It didn’t matter, he concluded. The grey figure was now only a few feet from the berth, and seemed to be analyzing something on his chest. The figure’s stare made Breakdown more conscious of his situation, and he surveyed his surroundings anxiously. There were cables connected to him at several points, dispensing something, falling from his frame to tangle on the floor and connect to a device too far away to identify. His chest still felt empty, like someone had been rooting around and disconnected wires at their whim. It was a strange feeling, Breakdown decided, and he didn’t like it.

He found himself hypersensitive to the noises the grey figure was making. He recognized the sound as familiar, and after a moment, realized that they were words. Still, he couldn’t understand what they  _ meant, _ and that frustrated him. So for that moment, the words continued being just noises.

“I must say,” the blur to his left said, “those heathens seemed to learn quite a bit from our friend here.”

Something about the accent was familiar. The way that the ‘r’s at the end of words sounded like ‘a’s, the clear enunciation… it was all coming back, but everything was far too confusing for Breakdown to remember who the speaker was.

As if the influx of sensory data wasn’t overwhelming enough, a second voice joined the first. “Starscream, our  _ friend  _ can  _ hear  _ you, you know.” Breakdown noted that the voice was farther away, and had a deeper, more pleasing timbre.

“Oh, I know you’re being  _ optimistic,  _ Knock Out…”

The speaker didn’t stop talking, but Breakdown zoned out of the conversation. He knew those words, it was a  _ designation,  _ it was… it was his Conjunx, wasn’t it? Knock Out? Searching for answers, Breakdown tuned back into the discussion, where the closer figure was still speaking.

“... _possibly_ fully recover from this condition? I suppose if you kept him on life support, but honestly…” The voice stopped, and the figure stepped closer. “Who would want to _live_ like this?”

Knock Out didn’t respond for a while. Breakdown squinted his left optic - the other one he found he had no control over - and saw something red approaching him to his right. He, the one Breakdown now recognized as Knock Out, looked over Breakdown’s frame for a few moments, and then sighed. “I’ll do what I can. But you, Starscream,” - he pointed a claw to the grey figure, Starscream - “have to help me figure out  _ how _ .”

Starscream raised his eyebrows. “ _ Me?!  _ Knock Out, once the Dark Energon is out of the equation, this is  _ your  _ little side project!”

“Yes, but _you_ got me into this mess, so _you_ have to help me come up with a way to convince _Shockwave_ to let me _continue_ it!”

Breakdown thought of the designation Knock Out had said - Shockwave. He could’ve sworn he’d heard the name before… was there anybody on the Nemesis named Shockwave? There was someone with a  _ similar  _ designation, but… no, he didn’t think there was anyone on board called that.

“There’s no way,” Starscream scoffed. “He’ll just say it’s - it’s  _ illogical,  _ or maybe he’ll try to refit his spark into a  _ Predacon!”  _ Knock Out appeared distraught at the statement, but Breakdown wasn’t sure he remembered what a Predacon was.

Before Knock Out could reply, he and Starscream gasped and stepped away from the berth. They exchanged a glance, and Starscream put a servo to the side of his helm. “Right away, m-my lord,” he said to someone. Knock Out adjusted some of the cords, his expression unreadable.

“Well… it’s been nice doing business with you, Knock Out,” Starscream sighed.

Knock Out rolled his optics, but Breakdown could tell he was nervous. “You’re acting as if he’s going to  _ terminate  _ us,” he said harshly.

Starscream started walking towards the exit. “Oh, he might as well terminate us, at this point… I doubt he’ll be happy about our, erm...  _ situation. _ Not to mention… I feel as though you might have to stop keeping Megatron in the dark about… about  _ him.  _ About  _ you.” _

Breakdown assumed that’s when the two of them made their exit - either that, or they just stopped talking. He took the lull in the conversation to, once more, analyze his situation. The medbay was empty, probably, but there was a weird smell coming from somewhere near his left. He could only move his head a few degrees, but it was enough to see that there were scorch marks and a few pieces of glass in the corner. Knock Out had dropped something, he surmised. Or maybe he threw it. Why would he just… throw something, and not pick it up?

He thought about the last time he’d been in the medbay - how long had it been? At least a few days, surely, since Knock Out had interrogated him. Breakdown realized he could check his chronometer and memory banks again, although he didn’t remember why he couldn’t before. 

He scrubbed through the data, confused why practically none of it seemed familiar, and found that his interrogation was merely three hours earlier. Breakdown frowned. That wasn’t right… his memory must be corrupted. Why would his memory be corrupted?

Too many questions.

Thinking back, Breakdown remembered talking with someone through his commlink. No, it wasn’t his commlink, he just… thought it, and then someone talked back to him. He wondered if that someone was still there. Hesitantly, he tried again.

_ Hello,  _ he thought.  _ Hello? Can anyone hear me? _

No response. Breakdown sighed.

When he was talking to the voice, he recalled, the voice was in pain. Or  _ he  _ was in pain. Maybe both. Maybe, he and the voice were connected… maybe that was why he still felt so empty. The voice was in pain because… because of Knock Out?

Breakdown entertained the idea. Knock Out was hurting the voice, so the voice must be evil, or an Autobot, or something. And Knock Out and Starscream just left a few seconds ago… no, he checked his memories, it’d already been ten Earth minutes. Weren’t they talking with Megatron? Breakdown didn’t think it would take that long, something must be out of the ordinary. Why would--

“Breakdown, can you hear me?”

Without him noticing, Knock Out had materialized by his berthside. Or, rather, Knock Out had quietly walked up to him, and he was so distracted that he didn’t notice.

“If… if you can hear me, do  _ anything, _ Breakdown,” Knock Out practically whispered, his gaze locked on his partner’s. Breakdown groaned, the noise painful and quiet but apparently enough, as Knock Out’s frame relaxed significantly.

A few moments passed before either of them moved. Knock Out, for whatever reason, placed a servo on Breakdown’s arm and started…  _ petting  _ it. It was strange, Breakdown thought, very strange, but it was somewhat comforting. They stayed like this until Knock Out sighed, and his servo drifted to hold Breakdown’s own.

“I know you’re not doing well,” Knock Out began, talking slower than usual, “so I’ll make this simple. I talked to Megatron, and the two of us… we have to leave. Tomorrow.”

“...Why?” Breakdown’s vocalizer hurt immensely to use, for some reason, but he knew talking was inevitable.

Knock Out looked away sadly. “Because… I said some things I shouldn’t have. I asked permission to keep you here, and he said no, and… I mentioned that we were Conjunx, and Megatron, he...”

Seeming to realize that Breakdown wasn’t going to reply aside from a sympathetic look in his optic, Knock Out said something he hadn’t said in a long time: “I’m sorry, Breakdown.”

The two met optics. Breakdown slowly moved his free servo to rest on Knock Out’s helm, but found that he couldn’t reach. “I… I love you, Knock Out,” he said, feeling as though if he said any more his vocalizer would collapse.

Knock Out nodded his head, and met Breakdown’s other servo. “I love you too, but… Breakdown, I had no idea you were alive, I… I  _ hurt  _ you, but… I promise, it was just to get Cylas out, I--

“I know.” Breakdown decided that the white-hot pain in his vocalizer and connecting energon lines was worth it. “I-I was there, I saw… everything. But I didn’t… you didn’t, you didn’t  _ hurt  _ me…

Knock Out appeared as if he’d just been shot. His servos jolted from Breakdown’s, and he stepped back, mortified. “You- you  _ saw?!  _ You were still… oh,  _ Breakdown,  _ I…”

Breakdown tried to reply, but an error message informed him that he simply wasn’t able to. He motioned to his neck in an attempt to convey the meaning, but it was lost to Knock Out, who was currently supporting himself on a countertop. “I could’ve  _ killed  _ you…” he murmured, covering his mouth with a servo. “I  _ tortured  _ you, I turned you into a  _ Terrorcon _ …”

Something about the way his chest rose up and down shakily - a motion he didn’t need to do, but subconsciously had picked up from human movies - created a wave of guilt through Breakdown’s processor. Maybe telling Knock Out the whole truth wasn’t necessary… maybe he could’ve saved him some pain if he’d just held his tongue. But they had always agreed on telling each other  _ everything _ , that’s how they’d stayed together this long. When Breakdown had felt a strange attraction to Airachnid, he told Knock Out, and they discussed the possibilities. When Starscream had specifically used the words ‘one of  _ those’ _ when referring to Knock Out, he told his partner and they reassured each other that things would be okay. When Starscream had said to Breakdown, much later, that he was fine with their relationship but Megatron wouldn’t be, the two of them agreed to keep things secret. But if he had just told him half of the truth instead of everything… Knock Out wouldn’t be hurting as badly.

“I suppose I should start packing,” Knock Out said, his voice barely above a murmur. Breakdown nodded and tried to smile, tried to do  _ anything  _ to assure him that he was okay, but the edges of his faceplate burned when he did. Knock Out walked away, through the door to their hab suite.

Only certain mechs could cry, and most of them had visors as opposed to optics. Breakdown did not believe he was one of those such mechs, but started to doubt that claim once he was left alone again. He felt, for the first time in a while,  _ vulnerable.  _ He was  _ afraid _ . He was afraid for himself, afraid that they had to leave the Nemesis, afraid of Megatron, afraid that he’d never live normally again, afraid that Knock Out would never forgive himself. It was a terrible feeling. He was so used to having corporeal fears… the last time he’d been afraid of something that he couldn’t beat into submission, it was his fear of being watched.

It wasn’t  _ seeing _ staring optics that scared him back when he was a Stunticon. No, though that wasn’t enjoyed either, it was the idea that he was being watched by something that he  _ couldn’t _ see. Humans called it scopophobia - but Decepticons called it weakness or a glitch. He’d gotten over his fear, for the most part, but the paranoia sometimes came creeping back into his brain module.

Breakdown wondered what Knock Out was doing. That was their routine: when one felt afraid, the other would reassure him. It worked, mostly because their fears were almost always different. While Knock Out feared physical harm, Breakdown feared  _ psychological  _ harm. While Breakdown feared too many mechs being around, Knock Out feared  _ nobody  _ being around. It was an efficient system… but only if both of them were present for it. Even now that Breakdown was alive - and he wasn’t sure how he’d died, but he knew he’d been missing for a long time - he couldn’t comfort Knock Out. The guilt was unbearable.

Although it was faint, he could’ve sworn he heard something shatter, and Knock Out curse. Breakdown wondered if Knock Out was the type of mech who could cry. He doubted it.

After a time, Knock Out emerged from their hab suite with a trailer in tow… one that Breakdown recognized as his own when they’d been vagabonds mere years ago. “I found this folded up in the closet,” Knock Out explained, his voice still soft. “I suppose we’ll need it again.”

Breakdown nodded wordlessly. He gestured to his neck again, hoping that Knock Out would recognize the motion now that he had calmed down slightly.

“Your vocalizer,” Knock Out realized, earning a soundless sigh of relief from Breakdown. “Of course, I’ll… I’ll get right on that,” he said, letting go of the trailer and walked briskly over to the berth. He prepared a few tools, and made quick work of deactivating Breakdown’s pain receptors.

His neck cables parted, and revealed a sight that appeared to surprise Knock Out. “Primus,” he hissed, moving a hanging mirror to Breakdown’s chest to put his curious optic at rest. Breakdown’s gaze focused on the incision, and his optic widened - his inner jaw and its cable had punctured his vocalizer, rendering it useless but still bleeding. With his typical precision, Knock Out removed the device, placing on the hanging side table for analysis. He blotted the spilled energon away, and returned the inner jaw to its correct location.

“I can repair it,” Knock Out said, looking as if it was himself he needed to convince, “but it’ll take time. Time that we don’t really  _ have,  _ as we need to leave by noon tomorrow. I could always retrieve a vocalizer from storage, but…” He looked away with a sigh. “I like your voice too much.”

Breakdown couldn’t reply, but somehow Knock Out understood his answer by the look in his optic. He nodded, and got to work on mending the vocalizer.

The process took hours. Every time Knock Out left to retrieve parts from down the hall, Breakdown felt as if part of his spark was leaving with him. His spark was reunited with itself upon his return, but the fact that it had been fractured stayed the same.

Late that night, when the lighting made it seem as if Knock Out was getting creases under his optics (though maybe he was), his vocalizer was returned to him.

“Don’t overexert yourself,” Knock Out warned, “but does everything feel right?”

Breakdown reset it, letting the system recalibrate, before starting it up. “Thank you,” he said, grinning wide at how easy it felt to speak again. “Yeah, I feel… I feel a lot better.”

Knock Out breathed a sigh of relief, and carefully affixed his neck cables and plating back in place. He pushed the table aside, its arm hanging from the ceiling guiding it out of the way. Carefully, Knock Out placed a servo on Breakdown’s chest.

“C’mere,” Breakdown smiled. Knock Out smiled back - the first time he had seen him smile honestly since he offlined - and lifted himself onto the berth to straddle Breakdown’s waist. His chest came to rest against Breakdown’s, their faceplates mere inches apart.

“I missed you so much, Breakdown,” Knock Out said, optics locked onto his partner’s. “I still love you… but I don’t think I deserve to be forgiven. I  _ hurt _ you.”

Breakdown slowly brought his servos up - one to caress the small of Knock Out’s back, the other to hold the side of his helm. In return, Knock Out nuzzled against his servo, his smile bittersweet but still  _ his _ . “I forgive you… you didn’t mean to hurt me, and, y’know what?” He gave a crooked grin, one that seemed to make his partner’s heart flutter. “As long as you’re right here, I doubt I could ever stay hurt for long.”

Most of the time, it was Knock Out that initiated a kiss, or at least the more passionate ones. Neither of them had any problem with it - Knock Out liked being in control, and Breakdown liked being appreciated. But the times that Breakdown was the one to close the distance, Knock Out felt proud, and loved, and just  _ wonderful _ . When he told Breakdown that, he’d embraced him and kissed him so tenderly that Knock Out wasn’t convinced that it could ever be replicated.

He was wrong.

Breakdown was also the one to break the kiss after a beautifully long stretch of time, letting his helm fall and crooked smile return to his faceplates. “I think we’ll be alright on our own,” he said, ignoring his practically somersaulting spark, “especially ‘cause we’ll get to do  _ that  _ more often.”

Knock Out’s expression was one he hadn’t seen in awhile: completely drunk on love, on comfort, on happiness. “You should recharge,” he said after simply staring for a while.

Breakdown knew he should let him get up, but his servos didn’t move away from his frame - instead, they were content to move  _ on  _ his frame, exploring his smooth plating and transformation seams, eager for contact that they hadn’t gotten in ages. “I don’t wanna, unless you’re recharging next to me.”

“I’d love to, but I can’t disconnect you until tomorrow, just to be safe… and even then, you’ll be hooked up to a tank once we get down to Earth,” he replied in his usual tone, moving back to rest his helm on the middle of Breakdown’s chest. “I suppose we could just recharge like this, but if someone walks in…”

“Everyone already knows,” Breakdown chuckled. “You know how fast drama spreads around here.”

Knock Out nodded, offlining his optics with a sigh. “You promise you’ll recharge?” he asked, making himself comfortable against the angles of Breakdown’s frame, his legs tangling between the broader pair, his torso fitting perfectly under Breakdown’s chest.

“Definitely,” Breakdown replied. Knock Out smiled in response, letting Breakdown’s servos come to rest on his back.

“Good night, Breakdown.”

“‘Night, Knock Out.”

Morning came as easily as recharge did. Breakdown was the first to online; he usually was, they both acknowledged that Knock Out treasured his beauty sleep. For a few moments, he simply looked at Knock Out. His arms were loose and draped over Breakdown’s chest, his helm resting on its side, his optics shuttered peacefully and expression soft. He looked practically serene, Breakdown concluded. He’d missed this.

He checked his chronometer: 7:32 AM. They still had time until noon, he could let Knock Out rest. He needed it, judging by how tired he’d looked last night.

The unmistakable noise of the medbay doors opening brought Breakdown out of his thoughts and back into the present - one where Starscream was standing at the room’s entrance. Breakdown gave him a sheepish chuckle.

“ _ Well,  _ I  _ meant  _ to tell you that everyone already knows of your relationship, so you don’t have to keep it a secret anymore, but... it appears as if you already found out,” he said, a few decibels quieter than his usual tone, as he walked up to the berth. “So. How’s your recovery coming along?”

“Good,” Breakdown replied, still feeling embarrassed. “And uh…  _ Knock Out’s _ recovery is going well, too.”

Starscream nodded, giving Knock Out a sympathetic glance. “You know… and if he’s still listening, I swear I’ll get back at you both for this… it was rather upsetting seeing him without you.” His and Breakdown’s optics met, the red in his optics seeming to carry a more melancholic tone. “It was as if he was a different mech. When he wasn’t putting on some flamboyant façade, he was… quiet. Solemn, if you will.”

Breakdown didn’t reply verbally, only looking into Starscream’s optics, finding his expressions and gestures more expressive than he remembered. Starscream decided to continue with his monologue. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I’ll miss you.  _ Both  _ of you. In your absence, Breakdown, I like to think that Knock Out and I forged something that could be called a  _ friendship.  _ So…” Starscream cleared his throat, and nodded respectfully. “I’ll see you both off when you depart today.”

“Thanks, Starscream,” Breakdown smiled.

Starscream raised an eyebrow. “W-what for?”

“For saving me.”

Visibly confused, Starscream’s wings twitched. He played with his servos idly, in an attempt to direct Breakdown’s attention elsewhere. “Eh… but it was  _ Knock Out  _ who saved you. I don’t recall doing anything of the sort.”

Breakdown chuckled - something that, oddly, made Starscream’s optics widen. “Yeah, but you were there when he gave me the Dark Energon, and you helped Knock Out bring me back to the medbay. I think that counts as saving me… don’t you?”

Starscream shuttered his optics. “Erm, well… yes, I suppose, I… think nothing of it, Breakdown.” He gave a deep bow, and smiled. “I shall be seeing you. Take care.”

As Starscream exited the medbay, Knock Out fidgeted and sat up. “Hmm,” he said as he opened his optics, “I’m surprised Starscream was so  _ honest _ . He’s been so reluctant to talk with me about anything other than complaints and gossip… it’s nice to hear him open up like that.”

“Uh-huh,” Breakdown nodded. “How much stuff’s left to pack, Knock Out?”

With a sigh, Knock Out lifted himself off of Breakdown’s chest, and slid off the berth. “Mm… medical equipment, mostly. And the waxes and polish I have out here.” He opened the door to the trailer, looking around at the contents. “All I have here are personal items from our hab suite.”

Breakdown leaned forward, though the cables held him back somewhat. “...Like what?”

“Let’s see here…” Knock Out leaned inside, picking through several boxes. “A doll we stole in 1997 because you thought it was cute, a photo album from when we lived in Italy, some magazines, a novelty bumper sticker that you threatened to put on me… oh!” He stepped out, holding an ornately decorated vial attached to a thin loop of chain. “Your innermost energon, from our Conjunx Ritus ceremony.” Knock Out placed the chain around his neck, the vibrant blue of the vial standing out against his red paint. The intricate gold filigree that was painted on the glass, however, connected the two color schemes.“Still as pretty as ever, isn’t it?”

“When it’s on you, ‘course it is,” Breakdown chuckled. “I remember stayin’ up all night painting that… definitely worth it, though.”

Knock Out took off the necklace and placed it back in a small box. “Of course. Yours is in here too, if you’re ever curious.”

As Knock Out started organizing his medical supplies, Breakdown relaxed into the berth and watched him. His gait was back to its usual confident stride - far from the nervous, awkward way he had held himself merely yesterday. Breakdown wondered if it was another act, but reassured himself. This was the real Knock Out, not some show… but it was still likely that he wouldn’t be this composed forever. These kind of things take time, he reminded himself. Recovery was a long process: recovery from the loss and subsequent return of a loved one… or recovery from being a Terrorcon.

Despite himself, Breakdown spoke up. “How long do you think it’s gonna take for me to be… y’know, normal again?”

Knock Out turned, but quickly looked away. “I’m… not really sure,” he said, returning to looking through his equipment. “The Dark Energon has been removed from your system, and by the looks of things, the Synth-En has worn off, too. I expect that there might be more to it than that, however… we’ll run some tests when we get to Earth.”

“Where’re we going, by the way?” Breakdown asked, trying to dodge the conversation.

“...Is there anywhere  _ you  _ want to go? I was thinking somewhere secluded myself, so we can get used to blending in again.”

Breakdown looked around the room, skimming through his memory banks for any location he remembered liking. “There was that… ugh, where was it? Somewhere in this country… that field where I said the sunset reminded me of the Acid Wastes.”

“Hm.” Knock Out placed a servo against his hip, the other organizing a box of different tins of wax. “That was Kansas, wasn’t it? I suppose we could go there, to start out… maybe then we could drive back to New York.”

“Sure. But uh,” Breakdown said, “didn’t you say you didn’t like New York? Too much traffic?”

Knock Out shrugged, filing the box into the trailer. “Yes, but if we go  _ east, _ we can go back to  _ Europe.” _

“Huh, guess so… what if we went the other way, though? Through Japan and Russia and stuff. We didn’t get to spend too long in Japan last time around, and it was really pretty,” Breakdown replied, earning a smile from Knock Out.

“We could, though it’d be a longer trip over the ocean. That would take us through California, right?” Knock Out asked as he placed a first aid kit by the trailer’s entrance. “I think that would work. Plus, we’ll get to visit all the places we missed on our first trip…”

There was a bit of a pause in the conversation as Knock Out continued packing the trailer. Breakdown laid back again, wondering why the lights running the length of the medbay were giving him a mild headache - he concluded it was just because he wasn’t used to the brightness. His thoughts travelled to his optic, of all things. When Knock Out had shown him himself in the mirror, he realized that his eyepatch was missing. He wondered if Knock Out could build him another one with the supplies they were bringing… perhaps, he thought, he should ask before they left. But packing was more urgent. Breakdown decided that he would ask if they had some spare time after packing was done. It only seemed fair, he thought. Knock Out was dealing with enough stress already.

“Breakdown?  _ Hello?” _

Something was making a clicking noise in front of him. Breakdown shook his helm and realized that he had unintentionally offlined his optic. He restarted the system, and found that Knock Out was snapping his fingers in an attempt to wake him up. Knock Out sighed, and folded his arms. “Everything alright? I thought you’d blacked out again.”

“Uh.” Breakdown looked around the room, and found that the trailer was significantly more full. “I…  _ think  _ I did, but it’s really hard to tell… what time is it?”

Knock Out’s optics unfocused - he was looking at his chronometer. “10:48,” he concluded. “I believe you were out for around an hour… regrettably, I didn’t notice until a few minutes ago.”

Breakdown frowned. “Guess I’m used to not talking, ‘cause of Cylas.”

“And I suppose  _ I’m  _ used to not hearing you talk,” Knock Out replied. “...Anyways. The trailer’s packed. Do you think you’re ready to move to the wheelchair?”

“Wheelchair?” Breakdown raised an eyebrow. “What wheelchair?”

Knock Out gave a concerned expression. “The one I’m standing next to, Breakdown,” he said, gesturing to a Cybertronian-sized wheelchair that he was indeed standing beside. Breakdown wasn’t  _ quite  _ sure it had been there a few seconds prior, but it certainly seemed like it should’ve been.

“Oh,” was all he could manage as a reaction. “Yeah, I think I’m ready, but I’m still attached to all these cables… uh,” Breakdown looked around, finding that the cables from earlier had been removed in lieu of a new, smaller one, which was connected to a tank on the back of the wheelchair. “...right. Okay, I’m ready.”

“...Alright,” Knock Out sighed. He pushed the wheelchair in front of the berth, and slipped a servo underneath Breakdown’s back, guiding him to stand up.

Breakdown found that his legs  _ really  _ didn’t want to carry his weight. He felt top heavy, as if his center of balance had been changed. When he felt like he was going to fall, Knock Out steadied him. “Easy now,” he said, wrapping his arms around him. “Just a few steps, you can do it.”

The praise wasn’t unnoticed - in fact, it made his spark jump - but Breakdown was concentrating much too hard to react verbally. His first step was heavy, so heavy that Breakdown worried he’d nearly dented the floor. His left pede met his right at a painfully slow pace, but Knock Out was patient, and his servos didn’t leave his frame until Breakdown was seated comfortably on the wheelchair.

It was… odd. He’d never been much for sitting - most Cybertronians had no reason to. The only time he sat somewhat regularly was to refuel, and even then he preferred to walk around and socialize. It kept him from feeling contained, which kept the fear of curious optics at bay.

Tentatively, Breakdown pushed the wheels forward. He rolled a few feet, as expected, before slowing to a stop. “What about my alt-mode?”

Knock Out looked away, appearing to be thinking about it. “If I’m not mistaken, your alt-mode might simply be  _ slower,  _ but still able to be driven. You might pull to the side, or something, but I’m unsure… we’ll have to try it out when we get there.”

“And the trailer?” Breakdown asked, turning the wheelchair to face Knock Out with some difficulty.

“We’ll have to see,” Knock Out concluded.

Breakdown gave a subtle nod, and once again found himself lost in thought. It was all so sudden; their eviction from the Nemesis had happened so quickly that he had trouble believing it was really happening. In the grand scheme of things, they’d only been a part of the team for a few years, but it felt like a lifetime when considering how  _ eventful  _ it had been. Over what was only a tiny sliver of their lifespans, the two of them had suffered more stress and losses than Breakdown thought they ever had before.

A sound interrupted his thought - but this time, it wasn’t coming from Knock Out. The medbay doors opened on the other side of the room, revealing a very uncomfortable looking Vehicon. “U-um,” he stammered, “I… heard you two were leaving?”

“Not of our own accord,” Knock Out scoffed. The Vehicon took a few cautious steps forward. “But yes, in seventy minutes at most we’ll be leaving via GroundBridge… is there something you wanted to ask?”

“Yeah, I mean, yes, I…”

Something about the Vehicon - Breakdown recognized him as F3-20 - reminded him of someone. He skimmed through his memory banks before finding a clip that worried him. “20, is T5-74 alright?”

The Vehicon jumped, partially at his skittish nature and partially at the casual use of his designation. “Um. No, he… he was one of the Vehicons terminated by the Terrorcons.”

Breakdown frowned. Knock Out, noticing his disappointment, spoke up. “There’s nothing we could’ve done, Breakdown… that was one of the reasons we were evicted. The losses were…  _ catastrophic.” _

“But Breakdown,” F3-20 said, his voice a little bit more optimistic. “It’s amazing that  _ you  _ survived! Through MECH, and Cylas, and… and all that stuff.”

Knock Out smiled and leaned on the back of Breakdown’s wheelchair. “Yes, he is quite good at surviving. But that doesn’t explain why you visited in the first place… I don’t see any injuries - though if you  _ are  _ injured, you should report to Shockwave instead.” He leaned in closer to the Vehicon, and dropped his voice to a pseudo-whisper. “But I recommend just treating it yourself… he’s not  _ actually  _ a medic.”

“Knock Out,” Breakdown chuckled, “that’s not fair. You’re a cosmetic surgeon… not that there’s anything wrong with it, it’s just that  _ none  _ of us are actually medics..”

“I may not be  _ totally  _ qualified, but at least I’m  _ sociable _ ,” Knock Out scoffed, turning away in mock offense.

The Vehicon put his servos behind his back awkwardly. “No, uh, I’m not injured… I just wanted to say goodbye, you know? On behalf of, um, everyone.”

Knock Out folded his arms with a smirk. “Oh, right. Breakdown’s  _ fan following.  _ Well, don’t let me get in the way,” he said jokingly, excusing himself from the conversation.

F3-20 gave Breakdown a nervous look - or as nervous a look as he could with an immovable faceplate. “So, uh… you’re really leaving, huh?”

Breakdown nodded solemnly, and the Vehicon continued. “I dunno what life’s gonna be like around here with Shockwave running the medbay… don’t get me wrong, I respect him, but… without you guys, there’s no one really  _ friendly  _ left. Everyone’s so, just… I dunno. Emotionless. I guess there’s always Starscream, but he doesn’t even call us by our designations, it’s always ‘you there’, or something… I doubt he can even tell us apart.”

“Yeah,” Breakdown agreed. “Knock Out was always closer to Starscream than I was… but I think he’s got a good spark underneath all that bravado. People are always saying that, y’know, he’s some kinda coward and only thinks of himself… but people used to say that about Knock Out, too, and he’s…” Even though he knew he didn’t have to anymore, he caught himself. “He’s a great guy. So yeah, I’d give Starscream a chance.”

The Vehicon looked over Breakdown’s shoulder - he noted how weird it was to see a Vehicon from such a low angle. Breakdown turned to see what he was looking at, and saw Knock Out shutting the door of their hab suite behind him. F3-20 took that as a cue to speak again. “So, uh… people were talking, and are you and Knock Out really…?”

Breakdown smiled. “Depends on what you heard.”

“Um. C-Conjunx Endura.”

“Yeah. He and I got together a long time ago, way before the Nemesis. Only reason nobody really knew was because Starscream told us to keep quiet about it… and based on what I heard Megatron’s reaction was, I’m sure you can guess why.”

The Vehicon seemed to be attempting to make himself smaller. Breakdown thought that he didn’t enjoy being taller than him, even if it was only because Breakdown was sitting. “That’s… that’s good for you, I’m glad you’re together. Hey, um, after we win the war… you think you guys can come visit? I dunno where we’ll be… Darkmount, maybe.”

Breakdown wasn’t sure what or where Darkmount was, but nodded. “‘Course. I won’t forget you guys… even if it’s a long time before I get to see you again. Okay?”

The Vehicon seemed to smile. “I’ll see you then, Breakdown. Thank you so much.”

“See ya, 20,” Breakdown said as the Vehicon exited the medbay.

Knock Out strode out of the hab suite with his usual confidence. “Wasn’t  _ he  _ a polite one,” he said, resting his servo against Breakdown’s shoulder strut. “Though I suppose they’re  _ all  _ like that. Also, do you think it was wise to tell them to befriend Starscream?”

“I thought you were friends,” Breakdown replied, raising an eyebrow.

“We  _ are,  _ but that doesn’t mean I think he’s without his faults.” Knock Out seemed to notice something, and adjusted the tank on the back of the wheelchair. “Starscream’s entertaining, sure, but he’s very difficult to get close to, and he has practically no manners.”

Breakdown frowned. “Sure, but didn’t you say he was pretty?”

Knock Out laughed, grinning back at Breakdown. “What I  _ said  _ was something along the lines of, ‘he’d be a real stunner if he had literally  _ any  _ composure’... but close enough.” Noticing Breakdown’s awkward smile, he attempted to deflect any further questions. “It’s currently 11:14. Is there anything else you wanted to do before we left?”

After a moment of thinking, Breakdown looked back up at Knock Out. “...Do you know what happened to Airachnid?”

“Soundwave bridged her to Luna 1, along with her army of Insecticons.” Knock Out said, as if simply being reminded of her made him uncomfortable. “She’ll starve eventually, assuming she doesn’t get rescued. But why would she - she’s made  _ no  _ allies. Not in the Decepticons, not in the Autobots…  _ nobody.” _

“Huh.” After a short halt in the conversation, Breakdown continued. “You sure we got everything from the medbay and our hab suite? We should double-check or something… it’d be real awkward if we left something behind.” He wheeled himself closer to the trailer, opening the door and peering inside. “Though I guess there’s a bunch of stuff in here already.”

“Precisely: we can’t bring everything, as we don’t have infinite storage.” Knock Out retrieved a datapad from his subspace, and handed it to Breakdown. “After you were first captured by MECH, I composed a  _ list.  _ It’s an inventory of everything we would need to survive if we decided to defect suddenly… I had assumed we would’ve defected  _ months  _ earlier.”

“And now, it’s not like it’s even our  _ choice,”  _ Breakdown said, scrolling through the datapad. “The whole reason I didn’t suggest defecting… it was because I thought we’d have troops sent after us. I didn’t wanna go into hiding, and I  _ especially  _ didn’t wanna drag you into it.”

Knock Out nodded. “I felt the same way. You know, during the relic hunt - you weren’t around for that - I’d seriously considered just leaving. Not changing faction, mind you, just… giving up, and going off on my own.” He gave a soft smile, and moved a servo to rest against one of Breakdown’s. “I’m very glad that I didn’t.”

Before the moment could continue, Knock Out placed his free servo to his audial. He was silent for a few seconds, looking deep in concentration. “Of  _ course…  _ yes, that would be fine… I believe it will remain the same, but keep in mind we’re likely being monitored… I don’t think they’ll care  _ where  _ we are, as long as we aren’t  _ here…  _ Kansas. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, I don’t have an exact location. Yes, I know, we’re irresistible… oh come on, you should be used to this by now! ...I know, I know, Primus... how many, do you think? Ten? ... _ Now?!  _ Can’t he-- oh, alright. Are you-- okay, okay, we’re on our way now, hold on!”

Knock Out huffed and put his servo down. “That was Starscream,” he said before Breakdown could ask, “and Megatron wants us gone  _ now. _

“But I thought we had until noon? Isn’t it only, uh… 11:18?”

“He said ‘ _ before _ noon’, so technically, he has every right to send us out.” Knock Out attached the trailer to a pulley that he held at the other end, and Breakdown rolled himself to the exit.

“Well… this is it, I guess,” Breakdown said.

“Seems like.”

Breakdown gave a smile, barely noticeable but still present. “Reminds me of the time we left your old clinic.”

“I suppose so,” Knock Out said, gesturing for him to continue their trip. “But this is no time for sentimentality… we’ve got a one-way trip to Earth, where we’ll have all the time in the world for reminiscing.”

The walk down the hallway was, as far as he could remember, one of the most awkward moments of his life. It was worse than the time Menasor separated during a battle because they were arguing about their lack of synchronization compared to the Aerialbots. It was, somehow, worse than when a human child had seen him in his root mode and he had to pretend to be a drone. And it was  _ definitely  _ worse than the time where Knock Out had forgotten to tell him that he couldn’t transform during a certain stage of his surgery, and Dead End had to help him hobble back to the clinic half-transformed.

He and Knock Out had been outed as Conjunx, plain and simple. Even if most people were okay with that, he wasn’t sure what else Knock Out had said. Breakdown could assume that he’d made a fool of himself - not to mention it was his and Starscream’s experiment that lost Megatron all of the Insecticons, a portion of the Vehicons, Airachnid, and a potential ‘beast machine super soldier’. Breakdown wondered what he’d done to Starscream.

Starscream, in fact, was waiting for them at the GroundBridge - as were Megatron and Soundwave.

“It truly is a shame that you have to make your exit  _ right  _ before we claim our rightful place as the winners of this war,” Megatron said with his typical sneer, “but some things cannot be excused.”

For once, Knock Out didn’t have a sarcastic quip for that. Or perhaps he did, Breakdown considered, and just held his tongue. He looked at Starscream, whose wings were twitching. Megatron didn’t seem to notice.

“As for your location, I know that you two have a bit of a  _ history  _ with this planet… how does rural Kansas sound?” Megatron grinned, and nodded at Soundwave. The GroundBridge materialized in front of them. For some reason, Starscream looked as if he was holding himself back. “Quiet, secluded…  _ dirt  _ and  _ bugs  _ everywhere… in fact, it was  _ Starscream’s  _ idea, was it not?”

Starscream nodded stiffly. “Yes, it was… Knock Out, consider this  _ thanks  _ for revealing to me some information on the locations you hate most.”

Breakdown remembered a few minutes earlier - Starscream had commed Knock Out, and Knock Out had told him where they were hoping to go… and he knew that Megatron was going to choose for them, so he suggested Knock Out’s idea, and lied that it was where he hated most…

“Thank you  _ very  _ much, Starscream,” Knock Out said, his tone practically dripping with sarcasm - but all three of them knew it was meant to be taken as earnest gratitude.

Breakdown didn’t know what to say. He gave an awkward smile to Starscream, who replied with a chuckle and one of his own.

“Get  _ on  _ with it,” Megatron hissed, “I didn’t bring you here to listen to more of your nonsense.”

Knock Out looked each of the mechs before him in the optics, and together he and Breakdown went through the GroundBridge.

It was bright outside - Breakdown winced and covered his optic with a servo once they were both out. They were in some kind of field, organic plants going far into the distance. There was nothing on the horizon except more foliage.

“Well, it’s not exactly my cup of tea,” Knock Out said, dropping the pulley and putting his servos on his hips, “but… as you said, this is it. Just the two of us… we can even  _ forget  _ about the war, if we want to.”

He was right, Breakdown realized. They had enough supplies to last them months, there was no need to stress about… well, anything. No energon hunting, no taking orders from Megatron, no Bulkhead, no annoying humans, no gestalt, no MECH… they could just be vagabonds again.

“It’s perfect,” Breakdown said, awestruck

Knock Out smiled, and stepped over to stand in front of Breakdown’s wheelchair. He leaned forward and kissed him, holding his helm in his servos. “Just like us,” he said.


	4. Chapter 4

Life beyond the Nemesis was strange. The vast emptiness of the plains offered no privacy, but still it was understood that nobody would find them. (And if someone  _ did,  _ Knock Out suggested, they could always dispose of the evidence and move out.)

Still, there was something comforting about the endless fields the two found themselves in, at least to Breakdown. His wheels - that is, on his wheelchair - sometimes got stuck in the grasses and wheat, but it was less cold and clinical than the dimly lit halls of their former ship. It didn’t feel like home, but it was much closer. Their former hab suite never really felt right: too small, too uniform, and  _ much  _ too unwelcoming. Everything was the same, everything was in its place, but it wasn’t theirs. This wasn’t  _ quite  _ right, but it was a step in the right direction.

“Do we wanna settle down at some point?” Breakdown asked, offering a casual conversation after a day or so of wandering aimlessly. “There isn’t much chance of finding a base like we had before, but there’s gotta be  _ something.” _

Knock Out, still following behind with the trailer in tow, thought for a moment. “Hm. I suppose so, especially so we can work on, well… fixing all of this.”

“Mhm.” Breakdown surveyed the horizon - still nothing. “We should look for some kinda barn, I think. Then you can have somewhere clean to stay, we can recharge on a buncha pillows instead of those awful berths they had on the Nemesis… we could do it up all, you know. Cozy.”

“You make a very persuasive argument,” Knock Out chuckled, “but the chances of us finding an  _ abandoned  _ barn are, unfortunately, very slim. Humans tend to keep things for a long time - long in  _ their  _ terms, rather - so unless Primus is offering us some kind of _ reparation _ for what we’ve been through, I doubt that--”

Knock Out wasn’t sure when the silhouette had appeared in the distance. The closer they got to it, however, the more they realized that they had indeed stumbled across a kind of reparation from Primus.

A quick scan showed that the barn was miles from anything, which was a blessing so great that Knock Out could overlook how messy the inside was. There was dirt  _ everywhere _ , the wood inside was beginning to rot, and he could’ve  _ sworn  _ he saw something skitter through a hole in the wall when he stepped inside.

“Well, it’s  _ disgusting,”  _ Knock Out said, folding his arms, “but it’s  _ empty.” _

Cleanup didn’t take long, in the grand scheme of things. Sure, they didn’t have the proper equipment, and sure, about halfway through they  _ might  _ have gotten distracted when Breakdown offered to clean the dirt from Knock Out’s frame, but it got done in time for the two to curl up on top of a blanket and fall into recharge.

According to his chronometer, it was 1:43 in the morning when Breakdown onlined. Which was odd, he concluded, because he’d set his systems to shut down until 6:00. A bit irritated at the glitch, he set it for 6:00 again, and shuttered his optics closed. But for some unfathomable reason, his systems couldn’t even idle properly.

“Knock Out,” he whispered, nudging his partner gently, “you awake?”

No response, not even a tired murmur. He was completely offline. Sure, he could be woken up, but… that’d be selfish, wouldn’t it?

Breakdown was thankful, for once, that Knock Out hadn’t fallen into recharge with his arms around him; as it had been the other way around, it was no challenge to untangle himself and climb onto his wheelchair.   


Their new base looked different in the moonlight, Breakdown realized. The chipped paint and unsightly floorboards were all but hidden in the darkness, and only the things he liked were illuminated: the metal of their trailer, the little flowers around the barn, Knock Out’s slumbering frame curled up on his side, with his vibrant red biolights adding a second light source to him.

Breakdown missed Cybertron. He couldn’t deny it. Even now, there was a part of him that wished he was looking at two moons instead of one, despite how beautiful the view from right outside the door was. For a moment, he imagined Luna One was simply in shadow, and the clouds weren’t there, and the three birds flying overhead were a Seeker trine. But he knew that it wasn’t, none of them were. This wasn’t Cybertron, no matter how hard he wished.

But then again… he thought of the fond memories they’d had on Earth, before that day when they’d paused their scouting for an energon deposit in Greece when they saw that Starscream had sent them a memo titled  _ URGENT - Respond within this cycle or I will find you.  _ They’d travelled to dozens of different land masses - countries, they later found out they were called. All of them had provided for a different experience, almost like they were all on different planets.

There was the time Knock Out had taken Breakdown to a gorgeous race track in Germany, the name of which Breakdown had trouble remembering, and offered to only win their race by a  _ little  _ bit. There was their trip to Seoul, where Breakdown had marvelled at how many different colored LED signs the humans had managed to fit into one street. There was the time Breakdown had suggested driving through an apparently dangerous salt pan in Bolivia, which Knock Out had  _ vehemently _ disapproved of, and yet two days later they were leaning on a cliffside, cleaning salt deposits out of each other’s wheels and laughing at how gross it was.

Knock Out, Breakdown thought, might not have laughed if they had done that now.

He’d gotten colder, more mature, although so had Breakdown. They’d both seen war, through the good and the bad, that much was obvious. But it’d never been personal. If Breakdown commed that he’d been shot and the other Stunticons had left him behind, Knock Out would have had him repaired within the solar cycle. If Knock Out was defenseless and in over his head, Breakdown would have dropped everything and helped him out. But on the Nemesis, what with the Autobots and MECH, it was very rare when the other was allowed to come to the rescue.

If they got hurt or made a mistake, it was their fault. They were left to die. End of story.

And that was more painful than the injuries and even death the two of them had been through, in Breakdown’s point of view. The fact that they were supposed to be on their own. Sure, the two had tried to oppose that, they’d tried to pair up as often as they could… but some things were unavoidable. Sometimes you had to accept that morning would come, and nobody would be there to hold your servo and tell you that you were gonna make it.

However, when morning came to the barn, Breakdown found that Knock Out’s servo was in his, as the previously recharging mech had woken up from his absence. Breakdown apologized, but Knock Out assured him that it was fine, he just wanted to make sure he was okay.

That was how he knew that things were going to get better, Breakdown decided. Not the moonlight, not the barn, not the solitude or the freedom or the independence… it was the servo so small that he could wrap his own around it, Knock Out’s five fingers fitting in between Breakdown’s four perfectly. That moment, despite its brevity, was the safest Breakdown had felt in as long as he could remember.

\---

It wasn’t long before the barn started looking like it belonged to them both. They’d moved a good portion of their belongings - specifically anything that could be used as furniture and decorations - inside, only keeping important items in the trailer. While there wasn’t a  _ lot  _ of room left to move around, as the barn was hardly bigger than their hab suite, they’d divided it into recharging and living areas at least, the former defined by the large tarp covering bales of hay they’d found behind the barn.

Despite their additions, everything still felt temporary. “And I know this isn’t our permanent home,” Knock Out said one day, “but I feel like it could benefit from a bit of a  _ makeover.” _

“When have you said something  _ couldn’t  _ benefit from a makeover?” Breakdown joked, carefully resting an arm around Knock Out’s shoulder.

Knock Out rolled his optics. “Us, obviously. We’re _already_ perfect.”

“Tell that to the Knock Out that said I should paint  _ filigree _ all over myself.”

“First of all, I never said  _ all over,  _ I just meant a  _ little  _ bit.” Knock Out replied, adjusting himself on their makeshift couch so he could rest his helm against Breakdown’s shoulder, “And second of all… I was only saying that we should, you know, spruce the place up a bit. And  _ that  _ was where I was going to segue into saying that we should  _ venture out  _ and see if we can find a town.”

“Hm.” Breakdown looked away, bringing his free servo up to tap his chin inquisitively. “I guess we could. But I don’t really think there’s anywhere  _ big  _ nearby… and you remember what happened the  _ last  _ time we stole stuff from a little town?”

“Someone threw a rock and cracked my window, and the local police were on us within the hour,” Knock Out shuddered. “How could I forget.”

“You ever think about getting holoforms? It’d make things a whole lot easier,” Breakdown said, looking over at Knock Out, whose grimace faded back into a neutral expression.

“Please,” he said, “You know what I think about humans. They’re all so… ugh.  _ Strange _ looking.”

Breakdown chuckled - something he’d been doing a lot more often over the past few days in the barn. “What about that movie star you said was pretty? That, uh… from those black and white movies. Rita... something?”

“ _ Rita Hayworth’s  _ beauty isn’t exactly of this time,” Knock Out said, examining his fingertips, noticing how they hadn’t been sharpened in far too long. “Times change, as do tastes. Despite the fact that her appearances in the movies we’ve seen would still be considered pretty, it would be  _ conspicuous.” _

“Hm. Know anyone nowadays you think would be pretty enough to design a holoform after?” Breakdown asked, tapping his finger idly.

Knock Out looked down, eyebrows furrowed, before answering. “Who was the lady from that horror film we saw in 1990, the one with the short red hair?  _ She  _ was rather pretty.”

“Don’t think I remember,” Breakdown said, “but anyone you think is--”

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by a clap of thunder so loud it seemed to shake the whole barn. Breakdown stood up with a start, ignoring his wheelchair. Before Knock Out could stop him, he was stumbling to the doorway and pulling the trailer inside.

“Breakdown!” Knock Out cried, steadying his partner as his pedes caught beneath him. “You’re not… ugh, you’re not  _ stable  _ yet!”

Still, despite Breakdown’s shaking legs, they made it inside with the trailer. “I… I didn’t want it getting struck by lightning,” he said, vocalizer stuttering. He fell down soon after, collapsing onto his side with a grunt.

Then… something happened. A moment after he hit the ground, he felt a splitting pain in the side of his helm, about where he had fallen. The pain quickly turned into a dull, numb feeling in his processor, as he was pushed onto his back against his will. He started to feel as if the room was spinning, and the second thunderclap seemed much farther away, as did the tense servos holding his helm up...

Breakdown felt as though he was underwater, strangely enough. Everything seemed murky and much too dim, and things that he knew were  _ supposed  _ to be stationary wobbled and faded randomly. Gravity felt seemed if it were pushing him down… no, he felt the bonds on his wrists and ankles, he felt Silas in his chest cavity, Knock Out’s energon prod was sending currents of electricity throughout his frame, paralyzing him, he couldn’t move, MECH technicians were taking him apart, Airachnid was tearing him limb from limb and laughing, everything was cold and dark and he was alone, and…

When he onlined, Knock Out was sitting beside him, both of his servos holding one of Breakdown’s weakly. His expression could only be described as distant, as if he was completely frozen.

“Knock Out,” he said -- or he  _ tried  _ to say, but no sound came out.

_ This is just a nightmare,  _ Breakdown thought,  _ so just slip into recharge and wait for it to be over. _

Except recharge didn’t come, because it never came when he wanted it to anymore. He always had to wait until he was getting warnings every klik that his systems were starting to lose power before he was able to rest for the night, no matter how tired he was. And at the moment, he felt  _ exhausted,  _ but still he was forced to watch Knock Out staring through him.

This torture went on for ages, neither saying a word, even after Knock Out seemed to come out of his strange daze. His optics met Breakdown’s for just a moment, and if his mind had been elsewhere, Breakdown would not have felt the incredibly brief pressure of Knock Out holding his servo tighter, before slipping away. 

Oddly, Breakdown fell back offline when Knock Out stood up and walked somewhere outside of his field of view.

He woke up once again an unknown length of time later. Breakdown surveyed the area and found he was lying on their bed, holding something in his servo. He lifted it to his face, grateful that he now had control of his body, and widened his optic when a scrap of paper fell from the object he’d picked up.

‘Breakdown:’ it read, ‘Went out to look for a town. Should be back before morning (today’s Tuesday, by the way, you’ve been offline since Sunday). Message me if you online before I’m back. Love, KO.’

In his servo, Breakdown realized, was Knock Out’s innermost energon. He looked over the vial for a moment; it had been months since he’d seen it. The energon was a silvery violet, glimmering in the dim light let in by the few windows. Instead of the ornate gold paint Breakdown had chosen to decorate his with, Knock Out’s had a geometric pattern in pink, drawn with a steady servo but still one not as well-versed in detailing as Breakdown was.

::Knock Out?:: Breakdown messaged after he’d placed the necklace around his neck.

::Oh thank Primus.:: was the immediate reply. ::How are you feeling? Should I come home now, or do you mind if I stay for a little while longer?::

::You can stay. Did you find something?::

::Yes, I found a cute little town an hour west of here. The locals stared at me, though, so if you want to come visit we should wait until everyone’s asleep.::

::Or,:: Breakdown replied, noticing how the vial refracted light in ways he hadn’t seen before, ::we could just make holoforms…? It can’t be  _ that  _ bad, KO. I think you’d make a pretty human.::

For some reason, Knock Out took a while to reply. Breakdown imagined he’d gotten distracted; maybe he’d seen a muscle car he’d say he wished was a Cybertronian, or a modded pickup truck whose additions he’d mutter about being “an insult to its rugged beauty”.

::I don’t think the humans here like me:: he said after some time had passed.

::Why not?::

::Well, I parked in the outskirts of the town to message you, and now someone’s shouting at me. He thinks I’m being ‘too damn loud at this time of night’ and ‘making a fool of him’... oh, I just saw his car, and…::

::It’s bad?:: Breakdown asked, sitting up.

:: _ Very.  _ Now he’s telling me to ‘get out of the car’... tough for him, I’m not about to s::

The message was sent prematurely, it seemed. Typically when this happened, Knock Out would quickly reply with a mild expletive, and correct his typo. This time, however, the expletive was delayed significantly and the typo wasn’t corrected.

::Slag.:: was all that he sent for a moment, though he continued his train of thought when Breakdown didn’t reply. ::The human opened my door, he got it about halfway before I realized what was happening. I slammed it shut, and I guess I hit him with it somehow? When I closed it he’d fallen over and was holding his head. I drove away, but a bunch of humans saw me… I’m gonna try and lose ‘em, but I think we might get the police called on us again.::

Breakdown groaned and leaned back on the bed. ::Should I start packing?::

Another pause, though shorter this time. ::I think so. I’m sorry for bothering you, you should be resting.::

::It’s not your fault, humans are just squishy and fragile.::

Knock Out arrived at the barn to find Breakdown waiting for him in his alt mode, with the trailer full of their belongings. He skidded to a stop, ignoring the grass dirtying his tires. “Breakdown, what are you  _ doing?  _ You  _ know  _ I hadn’t sanctioned use of your alt mode yet, who  _ knows  _ if you’re ready?! _ ”  _ Knock Out scolded, wishing he was in his root mode so he could put his servos on his hips.

“I’m in disguise,” Breakdown said shortly, revving his engine. “Let’s move out now, especially if you’re being followed.”

Knock Out simply stared for a while, but eventually conceded. “We’re pulling over the second they give up,” he said, driving considerably slower in the direction he’d been going.

\---

“How many hours has it been, Knock Out?” Breakdown commed later that day.

“Seven. You  _ still  _ want to keep going?”

Breakdown lessened his pace, allowing for Knock Out to pull into the lane beside him. “Kansas wasn’t right for us. You know that, I know that… so we’re driving until I can’t anymore,” he replied, letting his frame relax.

Knock Out pulled a little closer for a moment, but moved back. “Breakdown, don’t overexert yourself. Do you feel  _ completely  _ fine? Not even a bit tired?”

“Knock Out, I’m alright. We can stop in a little while if you want, but… that place was good, but it wasn’t where we should be.”

“While I agree with you,” Knock Out said, and Breakdown could hear his radio switching off over the commlink, “where  _ do  _ you think we should be?”

Breakdown thought for a moment - Knock Out figured he must have been thinking very hard, because his headlights dimmed somewhat. “A hangar, maybe. Big enough so it can be like an apartment. Out of the way, but within a few hours of a city, so we can go do stuff. And I want a really big tree to sit under,” he added as an afterthought.

Knock Out chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two were quiet for the next few hours. Knock Out found himself growing weary - it was long past his allotted time for recharge - but he still kept driving. Anxiously, he tried to pick up the conversation: “So how long do you plan on staying on this little water world?”

“As long as we gotta. We don’t have a ship or anything, so… whenever someone comes to pick us up, I guess, we go with them. Maybe the Stunticons’ll come looking for me… though I doubt it, I don’t even know if they’re all still online.”

“Hm.” Knock Out found his gaze travelling elsewhere. It landed on the headlights on the other side of the road, going too fast to get a good look at any individual model. They all had places to be, he thought, while he did not. “You know, even though I still think humans are a bit strange, I’ve grown to quite like Earth.”

“Really?” Breakdown noticed Knock Out’s fading interest in his EM field, but didn’t make any reference to it. “Maybe  _ we _ should become ‘bots then. We’d have a place to stay, at least… I think they’d be a little nicer than the ‘cons.”

Knock Out didn’t respond, so Breakdown kept talking. “I dunno, though. I really don’t wanna see Bulkhead again, especially when I’m still kinda beat up. I thought that maybe we could patch things up in the future, but… I doubt it. We’ve both done too much damage to move past.”

“I suppose. But our chances of running into the Autobots are very slim… it’s been, what, three weeks since we left? Imagine what could’ve happened in our absence.” Knock Out paused for a few minutes, letting the thought process. “The ‘bots could’ve won the  _ war  _ at this rate, especially without  _ us.” _

\---

Knock Out wished they had a location in mind when they set out, aside from just “not here”. They’d driven on and off for days - sometimes on the highway, sometimes on town roads, it depended on how they were feeling.

He wasn’t quite sure where they were, only that they were still driving west. They passed rowhouses and coffee shops, little humans with sunglasses and coffees and denim shorts, seagulls and dogs and the occasional drop-dead gorgeous convertible. All of the cars they’d seen over the past few hours had a sort of charm, he thought. There were the typical beauties - muscle cars, Rolls Royces, et cetera - but there were also adorable little electric cars, a couple scuffed up off-roaders, and even a sophisticated-looking Oldsmobile. Something about the way the bright sun reflected off of the cars’ paint made them look… well, just  _ better. _

After a length of time, the traffic and sidewalks became more densely populated, to the point where hardly anyone was moving. It was annoying, yes, but it gave Knock Out some time to think.

“Breakdown,” he commed after he’d been stuck in one spot for at least five minutes, “what do you think of  _ this  _ place?”

“It’s cute. Reminds me of you, kinda.”

Knock Out thought on that. He supposed Breakdown was right; he felt very at home in this… town. City. Whatever it was. Curiously, he checked his long-since ignored GPS to figure out where exactly they were.

“We’re in Los Angeles, California,” Knock Out said after a moment. “Home to about 3.8  _ million  _ humans. So much for out of the way, hm?”

The traffic went on for hours. Knock Out still wasn’t sure where they were going, but wherever it was, they weren’t going to get there anytime soon. As the sun sank past the skyscrapers and palm trees, Knock Out found himself  _ bored.  _ Usually when this happened he’d try to start something interesting: ‘accidentally’ bump Breakdown’s arm, flirt with one of the Vehicons so they’d get flustered and run away, or just go for a drive and turn the radio up. But here on the crowded roads, there was no arm to bump into, no Vehicon to get riled up, and no straightaway to drive down as fast as he could.

Evidently Breakdown had gotten bored too, because he sent a message tagged as ‘Urgency: Minimum’. Knock Out opened the message, finding that it only said ::KO, look out your right window!::.

Breakdown’s window rolled down, revealing a tall, muscular human with tanned skin, messy silver hair, and a blue headband. The human winked, and rolled the window back up.

::You made a holoform, did you?:: Knock Out commed, hoping his smirk carried over in his voice.

::Yep. Sorry KO, I know you don’t like ‘em, but they’re really fun to make. If you want, you could give it a whirl and we could go on a date?::

Knock Out considered the idea. Before he could reply, however, a new file arrived into his inbox - this one labelled as ‘URGENT - PLAY IMMEDIATELY’.

::You get the urgent message too, Breakdown?::

::Sure did.::

He played the recording, curious as to why the sender was labelled as Bumblebee, when he couldn’t talk.

_ “Hello? Okay, we’re recording. Uh, hey, Cybertronians! This is the Autobot Bumblebee, of Team Prime, coming to you prerecorded from Cybertron. That’s right - Cybertron’s back! Megatron has disbanded the Decepticons, so we’ve worked together to bring life back. Now, there’s still a lot of rebuilding to do… so anybody out there, be you Autobot, Decepticon, non-aligned: come home. We need you here. I’m serious. Drop everything, say goodbye, and get on your ships. We’ll be waiting. Bumblebee out.” _

Knock Out waited until he was sure Breakdown had finished the message before continuing their conversation thread. ::Seems like we’ve missed a lot, hm?::

::Yeah. Bumblebee got his voice back, Cybertron’s not dark anymore, I guess someone has a space bridge, Megatron broke up the team… scrap. How’re we gonna get back?::

::You said it yourself; we don’t have a ship, so we can’t. At least not  _ yet.  _ But for the time being… we’ve got this whole planet to ourselves, then, if everyone’s back home.::

He could’ve sworn he heard Breakdown chuckle to himself before replying. ::So, in that case… how about that date?::

Knock Out smiled, and with a bit of searching, activated his holoform creation plugin. ::Give me a few minutes. It’s not like I have any legitimate reason  _ against  _ it anymore.::


End file.
